


Broken Hearts, Torn Up Letters, And The Story Of A Lonely Girl

by geckoholic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:37:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She met him in a bar. (PWP, with only a dash of plot, set in S4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Hearts, Torn Up Letters, And The Story Of A Lonely Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This was planned as an original, hence the outsider POV and the focus on the girl. But somewhere in the process, I just couldn't resist to turn it into fandom fic. 
> 
> Beta'd by prettify. Thank you so much, hon!! ♥ Most of the good things about this fic are in it due to her; the fail is all mine, so are the remaining mistakes.
> 
> Title is from "Broken Hearts, Torn Up Letters, And The Story Of A Lonely Girl" by Lostprophets.

She met him in a bar.

It had been a crappy day; one of those when you wish some higher power would pick you up and place you in someone else's life. Trouble at work, a fight with a friend, on top of everything else, and she ended up in that bar, staring into her third Gin and Tonic more than actually drinking it. The very last thing she was looking for was a fuck; she was just procrastinating until the moment she had to go home again and face an apartment that would be empty except for the cat. It had been more than four months since Ethan moved out, but every time she looked at the slightly paler piece of skin where her wedding ring used to sit, she still felt like crying.

From the exact moment he entered the bar, her eyes were pinned on him. It wasn't his looks, though he was easy on the eyes. What attracted her so much was the sad look in his eyes: almost desperate, broken beyond any repair. She watched him smile at a few of those slutty girls, chatting with them, flirting. But apparently none of them could hold his attention for more than a few minutes, though it was quite clearly obvious he was looking for a fuck.

And all throughout the flirting, his sad eyes proved his smile a liar. It reminded her of the expression she saw every day when she looked into the mirror, and she wondered why no one else seemed to notice. If she'd been near enough, she thought to herself, she'd silently drag him into a hug and wouldn't let go for a long time.

She chuckled into her drink. Yeah, sure, as if she'd ever be confident enough to do such a thing. All the more, it was a pretty idiotic thought to begin with. No. Instead, she'll spend the whole evening staring at a guy who'll leave with some other girl while she'll go home to her cold, empty place. Alone, feeling sorry for herself. How pathetic.

When she looked in his direction again, he was gone. Awesome, she thought, and took another sip of her drink, only to find the glass almost empty. Weighing her options of ordering another one or going home, she swirled it in circles in front of her face to make the last puddle of liquid in it circulate.

"Want another one of that? I'll have it covered for you," a male voice behind her asked.

It took her a moment to realize that the man was talking to her, and when she turned around she almost dropped the glass. There he was, grinning and openly checking her out, and she had to keep herself from turning around to see if there was another woman, one of the type men usually bought drinks for, standing behind her. Now that he had her attention, he pointed towards the bottles behind the counter and then to her glass.

Thoughts raced through her head, and the images of what might be about to happen if she agreed clouded her drunken mind, but she couldn't work up the courage to take a step towards getting laid by a man she just met a few minutes ago. Buzzed or not, she still was too much of a coward to just let it happen.

"Don't waste money and precious pick-up lines. I'm not what you're looking for," she said.

He cocked his eyebrow. "And how would you know what I'm looking for?"

"Oh, it shows", she said, waving towards one of those easy-to-gets he was talking to earlier. "And I'm not interested."

His smile grew wider, and he searched for her gaze before he answered. "Really? You looked as if you were very interested when you stared at me".

That came out of the left field. She could practically feel how she turned beet-red while he gazed at her, waiting for a reply that she just couldn't give.

"Whatever." With a shrug, he turned away.

Just as he took the first step off, she hissed a "Yes," which made him come to a stand-still again. "Yes", she said again, louder this time.

***

She never got the drink he promised her, everything happened so fast. Before she really knew what she was doing, she found herself kissing - or rather making out with - him in front of the bar, arguing whose place they should go to: his or her's. Even though she would've preferred not to take another man to the home she shared with Ethan for so long, they quickly agreed on her place when he said something about a road trip and sharing a motel room with his brother. Not exactly an appealing option either.

Before she had even thought past the kisses, he flagged down a cab, which made her realize once more that he was quite used to random bar pick-ups and one night stands, and she asked herself again why he went for her instead of a pretty little slut. That she had a few moments to think in the car didn't help at all with making her more confident about what she was about to do, either. She felt caught when the cab driver turned around to glance at both at them, with a look that left no doubt about his idea of what their intention might be, and then questioned her directly when asking for the address.

Her unease didn't go unnoticed, though. When his gaze met her's, he reached for her hand, squeezed it a little, and winked with a heartening smile. They didn't exchange a single word during the drive, but that wasn't necessary. He didn't let her hand go, and him holding her gaze and smiling at her while gently caressing it calmed her down more than words could have.

***

Then she was standing in her hallway, having said other man glance at the wall of happy-couple pictures of her and Ethan, with a lump in her throat that made her swallow hard. It was impossible to tell if he just didn't care or already did the math of her sitting alone in a cheap bar, still wearing a business dress and with teary eyes, but he obviously decided to ignore them either way and didn't say a word.

Almost exhaling in relief about that decision, she headed towards the kitchen. "Do you, uhh, want a coffee or something? Or beer? I think I still got some in the -"

"Stay here," he cut in, gripping her arm and pulling her in for another kiss.

Pivoting on each other, they stumbled through the hallway with no definite destination, him holding her head with one hand and her hip with the other, her attempting to unbutton his shirt despite the little space to move he left her with.

When they ended up in the kitchen, he set her free and grinned at her. "Hey, you're taking that hospitality thing pretty serious, huh?" Almost like he'd just had an epiphany, his grin grew even wider. "Though, thinking about it, there is something I'd like to taste."

Her half-hearted attempt to ask him what he meant was halted by another kiss, before he picked her up and sat her on the kitchen counter. Wordlessly, he got to his knees, rolled her skirt up and undid her slip.

Ok, no answer needed; now it was rather clear what he was up to. He looked up to her face, as if asking for permission, and when she nodded, he pushed her legs apart.

There was a brief moment of thought along the lines of how she ended up being sucked by a stranger in her own kitchen, but that got a little blurry as soon as he began to slide a finger through the full length of her cleft, moving it back and forth slowly, intensifying the pressure just a little every time he touched her clit.

When the finger swapped places with his tongue, she lost every train of thought. He added his fingers again soon, though, using them to spread her lips wider and go a little deeper. While he worked his way with his tongue along the swelling flesh, pushing it inside to practically fuck her with it, re-adjusting his fingers constantly to hold her open as much as he could, circling her clit with it every now and then, he wrapped his free arm around her waist, dragging her closer. She willingly bucked her hips towards him as much as she could without falling off the counter, moaning as his actions become even more eager in response to her movement. For the past months, she didn't even touch herself, having other things on her mind than her libido, and the pleasure of not only being touched but also being touched by someone new and unknown, shot through her nerves like an ignition flame. His eagerness and open want – wanting her, flared up in her mind – added to that and wiped all the remaining qualms away.

Suddenly, he paused, looked up to her and kissed her with the taste of her pussy still lingering on his lips, a passionate kiss followed by a satisfied smile, clearly proud of the enjoyment he read in her face. Looking right into her eyes, he reached a hand under her blouse and bra to let his thumb run over her nipples, before he turned his attention back to what apparently was his favorite scope.

***

At some point, she decided that being licked open on a kitchen counter might be all right, but actually being fucked there was for teenagers. After all, this was her first one night stand in many years, and there was only so much breaking of fresh ground she could cope with during one night. So she dragged him to the bedroom.  
They went back to kissing and undressing each other on their way, with varying degrees of success, and by the time they stood in front of the bed, she was only left with her bra while he was still dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

He forced her to take a few steps back by pushing her away at arms length and let his eyes roam all over her almost naked body. "Take it off", he commanded and gestured towards her bra. When she looked at him questioningly, he smiled and added a "Please," and she complied. He followed her every move when she reached behind her back to open the catch and still held the bra in position in front of her breasts as she stripped the straps off her shoulders. Slowly, she let the cups glide down inch by inch, instead of exposing herself completely in one go, shivering at the friction of the fabric slowly brushing past her nipples now that all her senses were so alert. After the bra finally fell to the ground, leaving her with nothing on while he was still almost fully dressed, neither of them moved, and she found herself enjoying his eyes on her. Although she had never been the stripping kind of girl, the way he looked at her, a blend of want and impatience and a desire to nevertheless enjoy this moment to the full, made her feel cherished, not exposed.

For a long minute he continued to stare, almost as if he hadn't had the sight of a naked woman in front of him for a while, before he pulled his t-shirt over his head, unbuttoned his jeans and finally stripped off his shoes, socks, jeans and boxers. He closed in again and directed her toward the bed, laid her down, and leaned over her. This time she was the one taking in the sight of him, though not as blunt as he did: a well-defined, muscular body, powerfully built, but not overly bulked. Slowly, she let her fingers run over his chest, then sat upright and kissed him with a need that surprised herself.

Echoing her sudden greed, he guided her gently back onto the pillows, bent down to lick along the wrinkled skin of her areola before closing his mouth around a nipple, and repeated the same with the other breast, briefly gazing up to her face in-between. She returned the look, watched his lips – full, and of a rosy shade she never had seen on a man before – moving over her skin, sighed with pleasure, and decided it would be time for a little reciprocation. Therefore, she reached down to his cock, still holding his gaze and at let just one finger run over it's tip, her fingertip just barely palming the sensitive skin. His eyes fell shut at the sensation of the touch, and she began to stroke, with differing pressure, soft at first but going rougher, to figure out his preferred amount of it. Seemingly, she found it pretty fast and gave him a little smug smile of her own when he began to moan and slightly move his hips back and forth, consistent with her stroking.

As if he felt uncomfortable with being on the receiving end, he drew her hand away, shifted his position, now laying down beside her, supporting himself with one arm, and reached down between her legs with his free hand. Carefully, he pushed one finger inside her and searched for her gaze, as if looking for reassurance that he did the right thing and that she enjoyed what he did. For a moment, she stared back at him, noticing the sadness still lingering in his eyes beneath the lust, but he soon got her to a point where thinking about anything other than the movement of his finger inside of her got close to impossible. Watching her face intently, supposedly so that he could spot if he made her feel uncomfortable, he slid a second one inside, pushing in deeper and searching for the right spot to apply a little more pressure.

Just when she closed her eyes and began to breathe faster, he leaned forward, kissed her once, and withdrew his fingers. He fumbled for his jeans in front of the bed, found them, and eventually took out a condom which he slipped on easily.

Again, he kneeled down in front of her, urging her to move forward so that her ass partly rested on his thighs while he held her upper body with one hand and her lower back with the other. She held on to his arm with one hand and rested the other on the bed for support, letting him adjust her as he wanted to, and felt an anticipation that was almost unbearable. In that exact moment, all she wanted and all she could think about was to feel him inside her; the thought alone made her shiver.

Once he got her in his desired position, he thrust forward slowly, bit by bit, then out, and in again, before he froze and smiled at her quivering.

"Oh God," she groaned, squirming against the sheets. "Please don't stop now."

He obliged, upping the pace, and she moved her hips to meet his rhythm. When her breathing became heavier, he plunged himself even deeper into her, groaning and pushing her whole body closer, until she grasped his back and let her head fall back. She came with little noise, but the marks her fingernails left on his back would be visible for days, and he got there just a heartbeat later.

***

Lying behind her with his right hand loosely entangled with hers above their heads, he let the fingertips of his free left hand run over her lower back and her ass for a while before he rested it on her hip and took in a breath.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked.

She had an idea of what direction that conversation might take, but nevertheless agreed with a nod, so he continued.

"The guy from the photos. I don't have to be afraid that he'll catch us in the morning and I'll have to grab my jeans and make a run for it, do I?"

After a pause to carefully pick the words that always hurt so much, she answered: "No. He moved out." Her voice broke and she coughed. "And he most likely wouldn't care much any more."

He moved a bit closer and tightened his grip on her right hand, waiting for her to talk again.

It took her a minute to do so. "We were still in college when we got married. Way too early, I guess. Our lives went in different directions. And one day, we woke up and realized that we wanted completely different things from life. I know it sounds so much like a cliché, but I guess we just... I mean..."

"Grew apart?" he helped.

"Yeah. There you are, thinking you know somebody from scratch. But suddenly, from one day to next, you don't know what he's thinking any more, or what he's up to, and why. You know?"

He laughed bitterly. "Actually I do. Kinda."

Before she could say anything else, he changed the topic by starting to kiss her neck, letting his left hand slip towards a breast and brushing her nipple with his fingertips. She arched deeper into his embrace, feeling his cock hardening against her ass, and began to move teasingly against it.

Soon he turned his attention away from her breasts, letting his hand roam over her belly, taking her own free hand with it on the way deeper down. Just lightly, he stroked through her lips with his thumb a few times before he manoeuvered her hand below his.

She got the hint and dipped her own fingers into her cleft, playing with herself while he turned to get a condom. Yet again, she wondered how relaxed and at ease she felt around him, given the fact that she had only known him for a few hours, and how easily she broke out of her usual code of conduct if he prompted her to do so. Being watched had always caused her discomfort, but he didn't make her feel exposed at all. Even as he glanced back at her in-between, watching her fingers move up and down through the wetness appreciatively, she still didn't get nervous.

When he joined her again, he gently removed her hand, adjusted both their positions a little, and pushed himself into her.

Neither of them lasted long this time.

***

The next morning, he kissed her goodbye on the doorstep in a way that didn't leave much doubt about what they spend the night with. But much to her own surprise, she found herself not even caring if any of the neighbours might see them, or if Ethan was going to be told about it. She just enjoyed him cupping her face with both hands when he kissed her and drowned in that gorgeous smile of his one last time before he leaned down to whisper into her ear that the guy from the photos must have been pretty dumb the let her go, and didn't care if he really meant that. When he pulled her closer by wrapping an arm around her waist for a second kiss, and yet another one before he left, she even caught herself thinking that if the tattle-tale next door needed to tell a story, it might as well be a steamy one. This was the first thing in a long time that was entirely her own, that wouldn't be tainted in hindsight by the fact that she didn't share it with Ethan, and no one would take that away from her.

As soon as was gone, she took the pictures off the wall, out of their canvases and tore them apart, every single one of them. Many more pictures and the majority of Ethan's letters from their early years suffered the same fate, as well a few unlucky gifts like teddy bears and dried roses.

In the end, she sat in the the middle of the mess she made, sobbing frantically, but more out of relief than out of despair.


End file.
